As an Episcopal priest some are questioning my sanity by choosing to call myself a “Crone.” The funny thing is that I have called myself an old crone for some time in the same loving way that one would call an old man a curmudgeon. I never really gave it a thought in terms of entomology or any deeper darker meaning of the word. In fact, the revered Roget’s thesaurus calls a crone, (among other things such as witch and hag,), a beldam (old woman), frump, old wife, and grandmother.
I choose to ignore the definitions of a witch or a hag, because I see that as just the way we humans are selective. But, I am all the others, including a frump – ask my husband what I look like in the morning! Trust me, it isn’t pretty! I might even be considered a hag, but no one likes to think of themselves as either ugly or malicious as the dictionary defines it.
The word itself seems to come from the Northern French – Carogne, or Charoine, and Latin – Caro, and English – Carrion, all of which mean “flesh,” or “dead flesh.” Not a very attractive derivation for the word Crone. In retrospect, however, as we age our flesh is indeed dying, aging, sagging, wrinkling, withering, liver spotting, and well, I guess one could say moving on to become “dead flesh.” And, menopause doesn’t help. It dries us up, stops our youth-giving hormones, and even makes us cranky and cantankerous at times. A crone, in my book.
Some places say that the word is an ancient meaning for wise old woman, but my research hasn’t turned up such a definition although the site www.yoni.com/crone takes a stab at it. True, as we age we do gain wisdom. It is wisdom draped like a mantle over our shoulders, earned out of the experience of the years as our flesh has traversed life toward that day when it will truly live no more. It will indeed be dead flesh. Carogne, charoine, caro, carrion. But, ah, then we will be resurrected in a new body that will never die! Never be a crone. Thanks be to God.
In the meantime, as the skin withers, the wrinkles deepen, the sags sag, and the frump frumps, I like thinking of myself as a wise, old crone. I’m 70, I’m living it! I’ve earned it. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it! Witch no! Crone yes!